


i'm dreaming of the life i once loved, so wake me if you're out there.

by magicites



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Multi, Post-Sburb, Sadstuck, Separation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:23:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicites/pseuds/magicites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Karkat are the only ones who get out of Sburb alive, escaping to an entirely new universe where everything is specifically made to make them comfortable, as if it could be some sort of apology for the hell they went through.</p><p>However, it tears them apart, dumping them on opposite sides of the world. They try to cope with everything by themselves and settle into their new lives.</p><p>But it's hard when nobody understands just what you've been through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i'll search everywhere for you

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Angels by Owl City because I am terrible at making up titles by myself.
> 
> So, it's finals week starting tomorrow and while I should be studying for finals I'm posting this (because I was told that I should.). Yeah, best straight A student right here. I don't know how I do it either.
> 
> Part of this is already written, but it's far from done. Updates will occur whenever I have time to do so. I don't know if it'll have a happy ending or not just yet, so don't get your hopes up.
> 
> Anyways, I like torturing these precious babies so I hope you enjoy watching them suffer.

Sburb gave you a lot of things. It gave you a whole slew of new friends, each quirky and alien and wonderfully terrifying. It gave you amazing strength and powers befitting the god you became.

It gave you a girl, dangerous and manipulative but only ever trying to boost you up. A girl who didn’t think your taste in movies was dumb, a girl who honest-to-god _liked_ you, who wanted to kiss you and hold your hand.

It gave you consorts and quests, netting you weapons straight out of your wildest imagination. It gave you gifts you couldn’t even have imagined.

It gave you maturity; the mind of an adult in the body of a 13 year old.

But it made you lose so much more.

You lost your childhood, reduced to nothing but a memory of easier times in the span of just a few days that dragged on for a lifetime.

You lost your only family, killed by a monster wearing the face of a good dog and a best friend.

You lost the mother you could have had.

You lost your strange new alien friends just as quickly as you had gained them.

You lost the only girl who ever admitted to having a crush on you.

You lost the best friends you had ever made, just a few short hours after you had finally met them face to face.

You lost everything to that miserable fucking excuse of a game. Everything but one angry, short troll boy who it may have broken worse than it broke you.

You got out of that game and entered a new, strange universe where everything was so similar but still so different, full of humans and trolls and made specifically for you to live comfortably and easily in.

You lost Karkat in that new universe.

*

You’re more alone than you’ve ever been, even more than when you were the only candyblooded mutant living on a planet of ferocious assholes just waiting to cull you the second they found out about your existence.

You’re probably still the only candyblooded mutant troll on this planet, but that doesn’t matter anymore. This world is new, peaceful; practically dripping friendship and equality.

You can see everyone’s influence covered all over it, a mosaic of colors and typing quirks you’ll never see again. Teal and red is a fashion staple for every season. The only thing more posh than a female chainsaw-wielding rainbow drinker is a STRONG troll glistening in sweat. Sick beats are dropped in sick fires, and motherfucking miracles are everywhere.

You see John’s influence the most. The Breath symbol is plastered all over the fucking place, and he’s worshiped as the supreme god in most religions, in some form or another. They make him grander than he really is, because honestly, who the fuck would admit to having that derp as their lord and savoir? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

You join it anyways, claiming that you want to be closer to him. It’s not a complete lie, and they welcome you with open arms under his friendleader guidance. You’re all equal in His eyes, every last nooksniffing one of you, even liars and thieves and murderers.

You look for him -the real him- all the time. Everywhere you go, you look for him, whether it’s to your delusional lie of a religion hub or just to the supermarket.

Every chance you can you sign into Trollian, always keeping an eye out for the single chumhandle able to light up admist all of the discarded ones.

It never lights up. You search the rest of the internet, untold amounts of pages searching for pictures of ass-ugly ghosts or boys with buck teeth named John or Egbert or Fuckface.

You don’t make friends easily, as evidenced by the fact that you’ve been on this prison of a planet for a sweep without ever being invited over to someone’s hive. People, humans and trolls alike, just don’t talk to you. Not that you want them to, anyways. They’re just delusional freaks, and they can never understand what you’ve been through. They can never understand that you lost everything before the very concept of them was even _created_. If anyone’s their god, it’s you, and they’ll never realize it.

They can never understand that can only see them as weak replacements of everyone you loved.

John’s the only one who can really understand anymore. He’s the only one who won’t scrunch his eyebrows in confusion and frown while you break down in ugly red tears over the fact that your best friends are all dead. He’s the only one who wouldn’t look at you like you’re crazy, but instead give you one of his derpy, too-tight hugs and tell you that it’ll be all right, he’s here for you, he can help.

You miss Gamzee so much. Gamzee would be able to help, since when it's all said and done he's actually a wonderful moirail, but where is he?

Oh yeah, off someone having shitty raps in a dream bubble that popped eons ago. He doesn’t even exist anymore. He doesn’t do anything vaguely resembling existing anymore.

Neither does Terezi, or Kanaya, or Sollux, or anyone.

Maybe John doesn’t either.

*

It’s not that much of a problem that you can’t stand being near a computer anymore, is it? Even though your mom (she could never be your real mom, but you go along with it because she is nice and she does try hard to keep you happy) keeps telling you that computers don’t bite, you panic whenever you try to turn one on.

You know computers don’t bite, of course! But it’s not like you can explain to her why you can’t stand to be near them.

"Hey Mom, this’ll sound crazy, but I freak out and cry whenever I’m within three feet of a computer because they make me think of a time in another universe when I lost the only people I could call my family! Haha, isn’t that weird? No, I’m not making this up, what are you talking about?"

Because that would end _wonderfully._

You don’t love her, but you don’t hate her either. You don’t like to lie to her, but she simply couldn’t ever understand.

You wish you knew what happened to Karkat. He has to be alive, you’re sure of it! You just need to find him, that’s all! Maybe if you’re lucky, one day he’ll pop up on your doorstep, grumbling and angrily slinging genitalia-related insults at you.

Vriska must have taken all of your luck with her when she died, because he never shows up.

*

You don’t want to move. Nope, not at all. You’re perfectly fucking comfortable on your dirty mattress in the middle of your shitheap of a room.

You can move whenever the fuck you want to! You could move right fucking now, maybe go outside and get the mail that you haven’t checked in a week. But you don’t want to. You’re comfortable, so comfortable that you don’t want to go into your recuperacoon even though it would finally give you a good day’s sleep and it’s only a few feet away. You’re just that damn comfortable.

You’re too comfortable to get up and turn on your husktop. It wouldn’t matter anyways, because you only have Trollian on that shitty old thing and all of your contacts have long since been abandoned.

That reminds you, you haven’t called your matesprit in a few weeks. You don’t like her all that much, though. Her name is Terry (what a weird name for a troll), and she has the weirdest law fetish, but she’s not nearly as funny or as sharp-witted as you expected ( _wanted_ ) her to be.

She used to come over a lot, and since she’s a nosy bitch, she’d make you get off of your fucking comfortable mattress and go outside. She once told you to go to school and do something with your life, but fuck that!

She doesn’t really call you anymore, but you don’t care.

Nothing really matters to you anymore.

In fact, you kind of wish you were dead, since you deserve to be dead, not them.

You miss your friends.


	2. i'll miss you with all my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW HOLY SHIT GUYS. I can't...this is just some doofy little angst fic and wow, all the kudos. ._. (And this goes for my other fic too.) Maybe it's because I'm a newbie who isn't used to this, but every single time I check my e-mail and see that I've gotten more kudos or comments I get this huge idiotic smile on my face. Really.
> 
> Thank you guys so much, and um i'm really bad at ending these so enjoy.

Even in this new universe, you find yourself drawn to the same types of people. Your new best friend is a guy named Dan who cannot rap to save his life no matter how hard he tries.

You tell him that he’s the best rapper you’ve ever heard, just so he won’t stop.

You give him a pair of aviator shades for his 16th birthday.

Your last girlfriend was named Valerie, and she has a pet tarantula! You think that is just so cool! Too bad she doesn’t like Nic Cage, because if so, she would have been your soul mate. She was funny and kind, and she always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better.

You break up with her the moment ‘I love you, Vriska,’ slips out of your mouth.

When you’re 18, you realize that maybe guys can be attractive too, in their own way. Dating a guy isn’t that different from dating a girl, after all. Especially not a troll girl, haha! Boy, that sure was awkward to find out!

Besides, you've always been attracted to a person's personality more than their looks. Sure, a girl can be drop dead gorgeous, but you'd never want to date her if she wasn't interesting.

You get your first boyfriend when you’re 20, right in the middle of college. Dan isn’t too happy with this new development, but when you confront him about it, he just shrugs.

“Never thought I’d have a gay best friend,” he says, the shades you got him hanging off the collar of his t-shirt.

You hear his words in the voice of a person who doesn’t exist in this universe.

*

You really fucking hate the way this universe bends ass-over-head in order to keep you alive. No one ever tries to make you pay bills. You always have electricity and running water in your mess of an apartment, and even though you never go to the store, your kitchen is always stuffed to the brim with food.

You hate how whenever you work up the courage to finally listen to the voice of reason in your head and off yourself, all sharp objects within 20 feet of you magically disappear.

You really hate how it forces you to stay alive, even when you want nothing more to die and see your friends again.

It’s been sweeps since you physically got out of the game.

But every day, when you finally manage to sleep, you’re back in the game, receiving a drubbing from Terezi or shooshpapping Gamzee back to sanity.

Sometimes, you’re with John, back to back, friendleaders fighting together for a dying team. He always smiles at you in such a stupid manner that you manage to forget just how much everything sucks. Just how much _you_ suck.

What makes you angriest about those dreams is how you go through those same flushed feelings for him and his stupid not-a-homosexual buck toothed-grin. You’re flushed for Terezi, not this fuckass!

When you finally wake up from those nightmares, you end up in more pain than any physical wound could ever cause.

Everyone’s gone. Dead. Not coming back.

Even John, even though he’s the only one who might still be alive. If he even is alive somewhere, then he must have moved on by now. He’s strong; he can build himself back up. He could pull through this. You can't.

He’d never want to associate with a fucking loser like yourself. You don't blame him.

You wish you could just die, but you can’t.

So you stay on your shitty mattress and wish for the day you can finally close your eyes and never wake up.


	3. maybe one day, we can all meet up again.

Just a few days ago, you turned 23. And just a few days before that, you finally landed your first real job! You’ve only been working here for about a week, but even in that short amount of time you know that you’ll want to be a genetic engineer for the rest of your life. Not only is it fun (with just enough challenge to keep you on your toes), it makes you feel as if you’re actually doing something to help this universe.

It reminds you a little bit of your short stint as an ectobiologist, but that’s okay. So far, you haven’t broken down into tears when the memories resurfaced, so you think ( _hope_ ) that the nausea and the panic attacks will go away soon.

Besides, all of your co-workers are really nice and friendly. One of the first girls you meet is an intelligent, funny young woman named Opal. She’s just as old as you, and within just a few hours you become the best of friends.

The rest of your coworkers call you the wonder twins, and the both of you just laugh. She has bright red hair and green eyes, but you guess it might be the quirkiness and sense of cheer you both share that makes them all call you that.

Within a week of meeting her, she invites you over to her house for dinner with her girlfriend. She tells you that they won’t mind if you bring along a date (in fact, she suggests you do, because double dinner dates are simply the best there is), but gets the message as soon as you stammer and shake your head.

Another messy breakup, this time caused by the worry your ex felt over your ‘dreams.’

You wanted to tell her about Sburb so badly, to have anyone listen to you and understand just what you went through and not look at you like you needed a psychologist. So you told them to her, since you loved her and she loved you and understood you better than anyone else. Even then, you had to tweak a few details here and there, presenting them as dreams and random stories that you ‘made up on the spot.’

When she told you that you may need to see someone about them, that those dreams weren’t healthy or normal, you reacted...badly, to say the least.

It didn’t end prettily.

Luckily, all thoughts of your ex-girlfriend are out of your head by the time you show up at Opal’s house. She lets you in, and you’re instantly attacked by a pack of huskies showering you in affection. You laugh, and wave to the woman lounging on the couch reading some thick novel as Opal tries to call the dogs off.

You know that you now have two more best friends. You hope that Dan will be able to get along with them too.

*

You don’t know why, but one day, completely out of nowhere, you get up off of your shitty mattress, walk straight past the furniture covered in layers of dust, and leave your hive for the first time in what feels like forever. You walk right past your mailbox, filled with so many bullshit letters that it can’t even close properly. Fuck you letters, you have places to go, according to your mutinous legs that somehow magically grew a mind of their own all of a sudden.

20 minutes later, you end up sitting on a bench in a park that you didn’t know existed. You’re facing a playground, covered in swarms of wrigglers both human and troll as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. The place is practically covered in kids, and you’re pretty sure that the sand flying everywhere in the sandbox is because of burrowing wrigglers.

You don’t have a slightest clue as to what blood colors most of these trolls have, and you’re more than glad for it. You can’t help but smile at the sight of a young seadweller gently carrying a brownblooded wrigger back to its waiting lusus.

Feferi would have loved it here, you’re sure of it. She would have been such a great ruler.

If you had tried just a little harder, maybe she could be here with you, she and Tavros and Terezi and fuck, even Vriska.

You know for a fact that Vriska would love it here. There’s a fucking holiday dedicated to spiders, and you can’t walk into a single store without 8 balls lining at least one shelf.

“Are you okay, mister? You look pretty sad.” You swear you can her that pretty dragged out into something resembling a purr, and jolt up in shock. You look around frantically for the source of the voice, and it takes just a few seconds for your eyes to settle on a little troll girl, no older than three sweeps, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You sigh. “Yeah, I – I’m fine. Just...go have fun somewhere else, kid.” You say, your voice rough and scratchy with disuse.

She frowns, and shakes her head. “But you need a friend!” She protests.

You decide not to let her know how right she is. “Didn’t your lusus teach you not to talk to strangers?” You snap at her.

You have to give her credit for not backing down. Instead, she huffs, and glares up at you. “But you need a friend!” She insists, stomping her foot down on the ground. “And I need a friend, too, so we can be friends together!”

“Okay, that’s nice. Go play with someone your own age.”

You can tell she’s frustrated, by the way her cheeks puff out and her lip sticks out in a pout. But she doesn’t leave, instead clambering up on the bench to sit next to you. “No.” She says simply, but with such conviction that you sigh and let her be for now.

“Fine, fine.” You look down at her, noting how her eyes, too big for her face just like Nepeta’s, don’t even bother to move from your face. You’re not even sure if she’s blinking. “So, what’s your name?”

She breaks out into a smile, all small, sharp teeth. “Nikkie!” She declares happily. “What about you, mister?”

What is with all of these trolls having ridiculously human names? Mixed cultures sure are weird. “Karkat,” you tell her. “Karkat Vantas.”

“Hello Mr. Karkitty Vantas!” She chirps, and you nearly break out into a cold sweat at the nickname. “Are you here by yourself because you don’t have any friends?”

You swallow thickly, feeling a strange urge to answer her. You try to pick the simplest words possible. “Y-yeah. I used to have friends, but they’re all gone now.”

“Gone?” She asks. “Gone where?”

“Gone...far away, to a place that they can’t come back from.”

She’s silent for a long time. “...oh.” She finally whispers. “You don’t even have a special someone?”

You shake your head.

“...do you care about anyone that could still be here?”

You stop to think about this question. It takes you a long time to answer, and when you do, she listens in rapt attention. “Yeah, but I think that he’s gone too.”

“It’s okay.” She says, gently poking you in the side, determined but kind. “Because now you have me!”

You can’t help but snort in amusement. “You’re just some kid,” you tell her.

She frowns, but pushes through it. “Why does that have to matter? Friends are friends, no matter what!”

God, are all little kids this weird? Were you this weird when you were her age? You can’t remember.

Maybe this was what Nepeta was like when she was little, before you met her.

“...you know, you’re not so bad, Nikkie.”

She beams up at you, utterly delighted, but her smile falls when you both hear footsteps. A human jogs up to you, panting heavily. “Nikkie!” He says, reaching over and snatching the now-protesting girl into his arms. “What have I told you about running off!”

“But I made a new friend, Daddy!” She whines, feebly kicking and punching in an attempt to get down.

He shoots an apologetic look at you. “Nikkie, you know we have to go home now, right? The plane is leaving soon,” he says gently.

She stops struggling. “Yeah...” She twists herself around to look at you as her father (a human raising a troll...you can barely wrap your head around the idea) begins to explain.

“I’m so sorry if she disturbed you. She’s a very friendly little girl.”

You nod. “I can tell,” you say to him.

He starts walking away, and the little troll girl waves to you. “Bye, Mr. Karkitty! It was nice meeting you!” She calls out.

You sit there and watch them leave, the sun finally setting and leaving you in darkness.

You feel more alone than ever before.


	4. it's like i've finally woken up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know how to write epiphanies. I apologize.  
> EDIT: Oh wow I am really stupid I thought I posted this but I guess not. So uh Merry Christmas and if I can figure out how to work the proper HTML you may get two chapters today.

You’re 26 years old, and you have never loved someone in this universe as much as you love the man standing in front of you now. It’s your one sweep anniversary today, and you’re planning something _very_ special.

The best part is that he doesn’t suspect a single thing, since you decided a long time ago that you’d only celebrate years, not sweeps. Trolls and humans still measure time differently, and while he chose to use years long before you met him, you still know that he counts the sweeps.

You’re sitting in your favorite local, cheap restaurant, silently watching him as he gleefully stabs his salad with his fork, like the shriveled pieces of lettuce murdered his lusus in front of him or something. He is just so weird sometimes, but you love that about him!

You love everything about him, actually. You love the way his fangs peek out over his black lips when he smiles, the way his maroon eyes are just bright enough to stand out against the black of his pupil, the way his (admittedly short and nubby) horns peek out of his hair, tips completely flat and cylindrical, like someone cut off the points.

You love his laugh, and the way he’s not afraid to dominate over others just using the power of his words.

And like all good boyfriendsprits, you pity him too. It took several years and a few very intensive and in-depth college courses, but you think you get troll romance now. You understand pity, and you understand hate, even if you’re more of a monogamous kind of guy yourself.

You pity his inability to understand that he’s one of the most amazing people you’ve ever met. You pity the fact that he’s so self-conscious, and that he flinches whenever he sees blood of any color.

He’s utterly perfect, in every way, shape, and form. You’ve absolutely certain that he’s the one person you want to spend the rest of your life with, through sickness and health and all of those other corny marriage vows.

He finishes eating his salad, so you figure that now would be the perfect time. Slowly, you get up from your seat, your hand traveling to your coat pocket and securely wrapping around the velvety box inside. 

He watches you carefully, a single eyebrow raised so high it disappears into the shaggy hair covering most of his forehead. “John, what are you...?”

You gently grasp his hand with your free one, and lower yourself onto one knee. You’re not entirely sure how the troll version of this would go, but fuck it, you’re already bringing the box out of your pocket. Too late to turn back now!

“You know, we’ve been together for a long time. And, well, I love you a lot. You mean the world,” _this universe_ , “to me. We’ve been through so much together, and you’ve always been there for me. You still love me, even though I’m just an Egderp and I have stupid teeth and stupid glasses...” You trail off once you realize you’re rambling nervously, but you take a deep breath and steady yourself. “So...” You look up at him with a smile as you pop open the box. “Will you marry me?”

Confusion flits over his face for a brief moment, before exploding into the biggest, brightest smile you’ve ever seen. You can spot the faintest beginnings of watery maroon at the corners of his eyes, but you know he won’t cry. He’s too stubborn and too proud to cry over something as silly as getting married.

“Oh, John, I...” He begins, but falters, his expression darkening into a somber smile. “I have to ask you something.”

You are so not panicking right now. Panic? Haha, what’s that!? “Yeah?” And you didn’t just squeak that single word out, nope, not at all!

“Who’s Karkat?”

Your jaw drops open, and you let go oh both his hand and the box, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thump. “...huh?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not deaf, you know. You’ve called me by that name dozens of times. I guess you don’t think I notice, but I do.” His voice dims down to a whisper. “...whenever you have a nightmare, that’s the name you call out to the most.”

You find yourself unable to do anything but blink up at him, trying to see past that somber smile as it breaks your heart in half and _oh god, what the fuck is wrong with you_ -

“-I just want to know who Karkat is, John. I trust you, but I can’t ignore this any more. Not if we’re getting engaged.”

You think you start hyperventilating, but you can’t be sure. The only thing you hear is a chorus of _what the fuck is wrong with you_ parading through your head. You can’t focus on anything. The world is spinning, and you can’t see the restaurant anymore, only faces that you haven’t seen since you were 13.

Faces that you haven’t been able to let go of.

It all comes crashing to a stop, and when you blink, the world is completely still. It’s like time itself stopped for a moment, just to let you find a new grasp on your thoughts. Everything is brighter, somehow. All of the colors, the various reds and golds and bronzes of the curtains and tablecloths, seems more vibrant and alive.

It’s like you’ve opened your eyes after a long dream.

Your mind feels so clear.

You realize just what you’ve been doing since you’ve arrived in this universe. You’ve been trying to live a life you have to let go of.

That life doesn’t exist anymore.

Those people don’t exist anymore, no matter how hard you search through the scores of people looking for someone who’s close enough to pass off as a cheap copy of them.

All of these people you care about now, you don’t actually care about them because of who they are. You care about them because they’re nothing more than shoddy impersonations of your old friends.

You’ve been living a lie for so long.

“John?” He asks, snapping his fingers by your ear. “You okay?”

You fumble around for the ring box, snap it shut, and stick it back in your pocket. You stand up, and look him straight in his maroon eyes.

They’re just a few shades off from bright red. A few shades too many.

You begin to shake your head. “God, I’m so sorry. I...” You sigh. “I’ve been fucking up for so long now. I love you, I really do, but I can’t marry you.” 

He nods in understanding, as if he knew that it would end like this all along.

“Don’t get me wrong, I do love you! Just...I don’t love you for you.” Your teeth worry the bottom of your lip. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

“It’s okay, John. I think I figured it out a little after we first started dating. This Karkat person was someone you loved a long time ago, right?”

Well, not in that way exactly (you were desperate for a reminder of any of them in any way possible), but you nod anyways. “He meant a lot to me.”

“And you started dating me because on some level, I reminded you of him, right?”

You nod again, trying not to think of Rose as you do. Imagine what she would say to all of this! You can practically see her, still 13 years old but carrying herself like she’s twice that age, settled into a big chair with a notebook and a fancy pen in her lap, throwing out Freudian references so fast they fly right over your head.

“He’s gone now, isn’t he?” He asks quietly.

You begin to nod again, but something stops you. Wait...wait a second! There’s a chance, granted, an incredibly small, almost microscopic, unbelievable chance, but it still exists! “No.” You say. “No. He’s not. I just have to find him.”

He laughs. “John, don’t worry. I know you’ll find him soon.”

When you leave the restaurant, it’s with a three thousand dollar ring in your pocket, a small red stain of tomato sauce on your only white dress shirt, and a head clearer than it’s ever been before.

The Breeze gently encircles you, guiding you along a path you’ve been too stupid to take.

You know what you need to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and don't get your hopes up just yet.


	5. i miss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I want for Christmas is to make you cry.

You don’t remember leaving your husktop on, but the quiet chirp of the broken down piece of technology on your desk cuts through the silence, making you start.

You’re used to almost complete silence, save for the faint whir of the electricity that never shuts off, despite your fucking inability to pay bills.

Really, you’re doing good if you manage to drag your sorry ass to the kitchen and make a sandwich to eat in a day, let alone go outside, check the mail, and drive out to fuck-knows-where and give them your (not at all) hard earned money.

Curious, you get yourself up and drag yourself over to the broken screen, smacking it a few times before it explodes into a stark white that makes your eyes burn.

Wow, when was the last time you actually turned a light on?

You don’t care enough to remember.

Once your eyes adjust to the glaring white, you look around for anything out of the ordinary. You’re about to just sigh in disgust (not at all because of the sinking feeling in your chest as your hope gets sucked right out of you) when you see it.

Trollian’s up and running.

Someone’s messaging you.

Cautiously, you let your cursor hover over the small icon, before taking a deep breath and opening it. Your Trollian screen pops up, taking up most of your screen.

You find yourself staring at blue text you thought you’d never see again.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

EB: ...karkat?  
EB: are you actually online, or...  
EB: nevermind, i don’t want to finish that.  
EB: are you here?  


You stare at the blue text filling up the window. You try to instruct your hands to move, to type out a response before he leaves and you lose him forever, but your think pan seems to have rotted away into a goopy pile of nothing.

EB: ...  
EB: please tell me i’m not getting my hopes up for nothing.  
EB: come on, karkat. answer me, please.  


Your think pan may be nothing more than melted goo, but you manage to find one tiny cell that still works and you force it to order your fingers to type something.

CG: HOLY FUCK, YOU’RE NOT DEAD.

Wow. Way to sound like the biggest idiot on the planet.

EB: oh my god.  
EB: i...didn’t think you’d actually be on  
EB: and i don’t know what to say now  
EB: ...fuck.  
EB: i’ve missed you.  


You stare at the screen in shock, your think pan slowly managing to rise up from the goo like some sort of ectobiological phoenix. You wonder, vaguely, if this is a dream. There is no way you are fortunate enough to have the one person you want to see the most message you out of nowhere. This has to be a dream.

You decide to stay asleep for a little bit longer.

CG: 6 SWEEPS, JOHN.  
CG: I HAVEN’T TALKED TO YOU IN 6 FUCKING SWEEPS.  
CG: IN CASE YOU’RE STILL TOO RETARDED TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO CONVERT SWEEPS TO HUMAN YEARS, THAT MEANS I HAVEN’T TALKED TO YOU IN 13 YEARS.  
CG: THAT’S HALF OF MY FUCKING LIFE RIGHT THERE, RIGHT DOWN THE LOAD GAPER.  
CG: AND YOU KNOW WHAT?  
CG: THE LAST TIME I FUCKING OPENED MY PROTEIN CHUTE AND CONVERSED WITH ANOTHER LIVING BEING THAT WASN’T THE FUCKING COCKROACH IN MY SHITTY APARTMENT WAS PERIGREES AGO.   
EB: god...  
EB: i’m so sorry, karkat. i really understand if you’re mad at me. i’ve been a supreme fuck up for not looking for you.  
EB: i wish i had done this sooner.  
EB: but it’s okay now.  
EB: we don’t have to be alone anymore.  
EB: i found you.  


You choke on your own tongue at that, feeling tears gather at the corners of your eyes. No one’s around to see, so you just let them roll down your face, dropping off of your chin and leaving small red circles on your desk, cutting through sweeps of dust in just a second.

This has to be a dream. You’re sure of it.

You get dreams like this a lot. John messages you out of nowhere, and ends up being alive and perfectly okay due to magical fairy dream bullshit. He tells you that he’ll come to get you, that you don’t have to be alone anymore, that he’s here now and it’s okay because he _understands_ —

These dreams hurt more than any nightmare you’ve ever had. They even hurt more than the nightmares when you have to watch your friends fucking _die_ over and over again, because at least those don’t give you this false sense of hope. At least those dreams don’t take that sense of hope and rip it to shreds right in front of your face and sprinkle the remains over your head like its fucking party confetti.

You’re tired, so tired. Tired of this bullshit.

You have to end it before it gets any worse. You wipe away your tears with a ratty sleeve so you can see the screen, and notice that he’s typed more.

EB: i know it must have hurt a lot for you. and i know you’ve probably done some screwed up things in order to make yourself feel better. i know i have.  
EB: i just hope that you’ve been handling this better than me, haha...  
EB: but at least now we can handle this together!  
EB: palhoncho power, right? :D   
CG: NO.  
CG: FUCK NO.   
EB: ...what?  


You read that single word in his voice, coming out in a barely audible squeak. Even in your mind, it sounds so utterly heartbroken and dejected your fingers automatically type out an apology.

But you catch yourself before you send it, and instead remind yourself that this is only a dream. The feeling of your blood pusher being gripped by the claws of the fucking ex-

CG: I AM SO FUCKING TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT.  
CG: AT LEAST ONCE A FUCKING NIGHT IT’S THE SAME THING.   
EB: i don’t understand.   
CG: OF COURSE YOU DON’T.  
CG: YOU’RE GOING TO ASK FOR MY ADDRESS, AND I’M GOING TO GIVE IT TO YOU FASTER THAN AN EMOTIONALLY FRAGILE TEENAGE GIRL WHO DOESN’T GET ENOUGH HUGS FROM HER DISTANT LUSUS-PARENTS GIVES A 40 YEAR OLD CREEP ALL OF HER CONTACT INFORMATION.  
CG: BUT INSTEAD SHOWING UP ON MY DOORSTEP AND SOLICITING ME FOR SEX, YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING TAKE ALL OF MY HOPE AND JOY AND STOMP IT INTO THE GROUND.  
CG: BECAUSE YOU DO THAT  
CG: EVERY  
CG: SINGLE  
CG: TIME.   
EB: ...karkat...  
EB: you’re not making any sense.   
CG: THIS IS A FUCKING DREAM. NOTHING MAKES SENSE IN THIS WONDERLAND FULL OF BULLSHIT AND LIES MASQUERADING AS FRIENDSHIP.   
EB: but this isn’t a dream!  
EB: this is real!  
EB: just trust me!   
CG: HAHA, LIKE YOU HAVEN’T SAID THAT BEFORE.  
CG: FUCK YOU, ALRIGHT?  
CG: FUCK YOU AND EVERY OTHER INCARNATION OF YOU, YOU GIANT GAPING ASSHOLE.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] has blocked ectoBiologist [EB} \--

You close your eyes, trying to push the rage and hurt coursing through you down. You slow your breathing.

In, out.

In, out.

It’s not working. You still feel just as angry as you did when you signed off, and your think-pan clouds over with anger.

The next thing you know, you’re grabbing your husktop and slamming it into the side of the desk as hard as you can, sending sparks and bits of metal and organic matter everywhere. You can feel the pain, white hot and slightly satisfying, dance up and down your arm, but it doesn’t stop you.

You don’t stop until your husktop is reduced to a heap of colorful wires and broken glass. Your arms throb in pain and trails of sluggish candy red blood leave ugly, splotchy trails on your skin, but you don’t care.

Wait...

You can’t feel pain in dreams.

You can’t...

you-

-you-

-you are the biggest fuckass in the history of any universe that has ever existed.

And you just blew your one shot at happiness.

*

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] has blocked ectoBiologist [EB} \--

EB: karkat...  
EB: i miss you so much.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you return to a completed fanfic a month later and realize that not only did you spell one of the screennames wrong like a gigantic raging fucktard, you also put the names in the wrong order and convey the completely wrong idea.   
> Way to go, self.   
> Way.   
> To.   
> Go.


	6. be there soon.

You, present Karkat Vantas, a 13 sweep loser living in an apartment that’s so run-down and shitty it’s practically a creature of the undead, are the biggest fuckass ever to exist. You’re almost as big of a fuckup as past Karkat, but even he had his good qualities, therefore placing him above you on the worth spectrum. You don’t know how bad future Karkat is, but he can’t be nearly as bad as present you.

It’s amazing, really. John’s _not dead_. He’s _alive_ , and not just some figment of your imagination. But no, what did you have to do? You just had to push him away and destroy your only possible method of communication with him.

You don’t know where he is on this planet, or if he’s even on this planet. You don’t know where he lives, what he does, what websites he uses, anything.

You literally have no way to communicate with him either. Trollian’s defunct, and it’s been defunct for several sweeps. Only old people who refuse to die and refuse to keep up with the times and bratty children use it nowadays. No public terminal has it available as a program anymore. And it’s not like you have the money to go out and buy a new husktop, given the fact that you don’t have a job, let alone one of those bullshit pieces of paper the schooling establishment gives you upon completing their useless courses. You dropped out of that bullshit waste of your time years ago.

But you don’t know anything about this universe. You don’t know how to do much of anything, really, besides fuck up lives.

It’s all useless. You’re useless.

You think it’s time to

just

give

up.

*

Your name is John Egbert, you’re 26 years old, and somewhere out there is one of your best friends, probably hurt and scared and confused.

You can’t give up. Not now, not when you’re so close to finally finding him.

So you do the opposite of giving up. You plunge into the depths of the internet to search for him. It doesn’t take long, due to the fact that apparently he signed up for some weird almost-but-not-quite-Facebook back when he was still a teenager.

You pause for a moment to acknowledge that what you’re doing is just a little bit creepy, but shrug it off and start to scroll through.

It’s like you’re going through Karkat’s life in reverse. The first things you see are worried posts from friends, asking him what happened to him.

 **Sooo...You Moved out And Gott A Place Of Your ownn Huh...Wayy To Not Tell Anyone At All! Butt How Could You Possiblyy Think Thatt Droppingg outt Of School Was A Good Idea?**

That’s the last message someone left on his page, and the first you read. Your stomach feels like it plummets to your feet after you finish, and you impulsively take a drink of water to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat.

Why the hell did you not try to find him sooner.

 **heY brO, itS beeN foreveR sincE ivE seeN yoU! :-( canT geT aholD oF yoU anymorE. nO onE caN. wE misS yoU!**

 **The law is a harsh mistress. Not only will you fail if you keep this up, your lusus is going to get sent away. You don’t want that, do you?**

 **I Dontt Think Thatt This Is Good At All Ahahaha...No ones Seenn You In Weeks...Cmon Karkatt Talkk To Me Im Your Moiraill...**

 **Don’t you know that not showing up at school for this long can be considered truancy? Besides, you’re missing out on learning how our judicial system works! >:( At least give me your address so I can get you your homework! I can’t have a matesprit that’s flunking all of his classes!**

All of the messages basically revolve around those same few topics. You see them come from several different people, but two names pop up the most often.

They remind you of Kanaya and Terezi, respectively. You wonder if that was why Karkat was so close to them.

You’re pretty sure that he noticed it too.

You keep scrolling through, and eventually, find a post that Karkat wrote himself.

 **I’M SICK AND TIRED OF EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU. YOU’RE ALL FAKES. IMPOSTERS. YOU’RE ALL SO SIMILAR, BUT JUST DIFFERENT ENOUGH TO MAKE ME WANT TO BASH MY HEAD INTO MY KEYBOARD AND DIE. YOU ALL DO THIS JUST TO TORTURE ME, DON’T YOU? I HATE EVERY LAST NOOKSLURPING ONE OF YOU. IN FACT, MY HATE FOR ALL OF YOU IS SO INTENSE AND SO BRIGHT, IT COULD SET AN ENTRIRE GALAXY ON FIRE WITH THE FLAMES OF MY HATRED. ******

Guess that answers your question. He did figure it out (maybe ‘acknowledge it’ would be the better term) much faster than you did.

From that point, it’s kind of like watching Karkat at his most broken slowly put himself back together again. He slowly goes from attacking anyone who tries to reach out to him and hating everything (including himself) to friendly jabs at the people he talked to.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way, but the farther back you go, and the happier you see him act, the happier you feel.

All it takes is the thought that no, he’s at his worst right now, to make that happy feeling wither away.

Though it doesn’t take you long to decide that you’ve gathered enough information to be able to start searching other places. You decide to start with his (ex?) moirail, and somehow you’re not at all surprised when you find out she runs her own jewelry store.

About three weeks pass before you find yourself on the phone with a troll woman named Kemane (not Kanaya, you have to keep reminding yourself), asking her to get back in contact with a troll she hasn’t spoken to in years.

Surprisingly, she agrees to help you.

*

When your mobile telecommunication device or cell phone or whatever the fuck it’s called rings, you can only wonder how the battery isn’t dead yet.

When it rings again, you slowly berate youself for hallucinating.

When it rings a third time, you start to think that maybe it’s not a hallucination. But who would want to call you? Despite that, you drag yourself over to where you last threw it to and begin searching through the piles of dirty clothes.

By the fourth time it rings, you finally find it, still attached to its charger. You check the screen on a small whim, and when you recognize the flashing name, you decide to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello Karkat.”

It’s your ex-moirail. She always rubbed you the wrong way, but it wasn’t because she was really fucking annoying or anything.

She just wasn’t Kanaya, no matter how hard you pretended she was.

“What do you want.” You say, not finding enough energy to form the words into a question. You haven’t done shit for gog (why do you still use that word, it was just a prank Strider pulled on all of you) knows how long, but you feel like you’ve simply run out of steam.

You don’t need energy to waste your life away, so you find yourself not really caring.

“I see you’re doing well,” she remarks, vaguely amused. You simply tug the phone out of the charge and slump against the wall, letting yourself slide down until your ass hits the floor.

“Why are you calling me.”

“No yelling or cursing at me? And you’re not even attempting to drag out some complicated, vulgar metaphor in order to express your distaste with me calling you?” She sounds disappointed, and hurt, like you just let her down. You can’t bring yourself to care.

“Anyways,” she continues, “the strangest thing happened to me. A few days ago, some strange man contacts me out of nowhere, wanting to know about you.”

Hope flutters in your chest, but you squash the feeling down before it can amount to any kind of pain or move the numbness out. Maybe its a debt collector, finally come to take your shitty apartment and leave you on the street. At least you’d die faster that way.

You stay silent, waiting for her to continue. When she whispers a hesitant, nervous, “Karkat?” betraying the haughty attitude she still hides behind, you grunt in response to let her know you’re still there.

“Karkat, do you know of a man named John Egbert? Because he wants to talk to you, and even though we ended that relationship sweeps ago, I still feel some degree of loyalty to you. I wanted to ask your permission before I decided to give him all of your contact information, because I would be slightly upset if a strange man murdered you in your sleep.”

You drop the phone on the floor, too shocked and confused to work your fingers correctly. A feeling of rewnewed hope surges through your veins, bright and warm like the days, long ago, when you thought that the Game _was_ actually fun and good for you.

Just like then, you decide not to think of any possible consequences or downsides to this. You’re so _tired_ of being slapped in the face by every single particle of luck, fortune, and happiness that comes your way that just this once, you’re going to pretend that everything is good.

Then again, there’s still a possibility that you’re actually dead and currently living inside a dream bubble, but even that option doesn’t seem so bad either, horrorterrors right outside your hive or not. At least you wouldn’t be so alone.

"Karkat? Karkat, are you there?” You hear her voice, small and tinny, still emaninating from your phone, and you scrabble desperately to pick it up, claws digging gashes into the worn plastic cover on the device.

“Yeah.” You say quickly, the word clipped and harsh. “I know him.”

“To be honest, I was hoping that you would say that. When he talked to me, he was just so earnest and so eager to see you that I would be severely disturbed if his entire sob story was a lie...”

You tune her out, letting your hand drop uselessly to your side. You can feel tears aready marking their way down your cheeks, but you make no move to stop them.

Instead, you mutter a choked, “I have to go,” into the phone, hang up, and curl in on yourself.

You cry harder than you’ve ever cried before in your life.

He’s coming to find you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screams because I finished this last night! :D The last chapter will be posted soon, I promise! For once, I'm actually really proud of the ending (not so much this chapter...) and I hope that you guys will like it too!
> 
> Also, those "typing quirks" I based off of a quick scroll through my facebook page. I am not even kidding.


	7. this is the feeling of actually being alive, not just existing from day to day.

“Hey man, are you sure this is a good idea?” Dan ( _not Dave not Dave not Dave_ ) asks from his spot on your couch as he warily eyes the stack of clothes next to him. “I mean, you’re blowing a couple grand to go to the other side of the country just to see a shut-in you haven't really talked to in over a decade. What if he’s some degenerate loser? What if he takes all of your money and leaves you in a ditch?”

You snag a shirt off of the pile and carefully fold the arms back and underneath the shirt, just like you remember your Dad folding his shirts all those years ago.

He would sit you down on the floor in front of the couch, and show you how to fold each article of clothing. You could never resist holding the laundry up to your face, letting the warm, soapy smell dance all around you. He’d just chuckle, and by then you’d be focused enough to clumsily fold your own clothes and set them in small piles all around you. He once commented that it looked like you were building up a fortress around you, and you laughed and said that you needed to keep the cake imps out. After that, you always arranged the clothes you folded like a fort, but your Dad simply stepped over it and smashed a cake over your head. You weren’t too fond of his cake hats, and for some reason, he kept ‘giving them’ to you, even though nine times out of ten the cake got onto the clothes and forced him to re-wash them.

You miss your Dad.

You don’t know how long it takes for you to actually notice it, but Dan shoots you one of his patented ‘you’re spacing out again’ looks, and you ball up a sock and throw it at him in retaliation. He snorts and rolls his eyes, muttering, “how mature,” under his breath as he tosses the sock into your suitcase. A few seconds later, its partner also greets his face and it very swiftly gets buried next to the other under a stack of freshly washed jeans.

“You don’t need to bring along your entire wardrobe, John,” he quips.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” you say, shrugging. “Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be out there.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea...” He mutters to himself. You hear him, but decide to ignore him.

You finally get all of your stuff packed away, and you and Dan load your things into the back of his shitty little jeep. The ride there is mostly silent, but judging by the way he pushes himself as far back in his seat as he can go and grips the steering wheel like a lifeline, all tense muscles and sharp lines, it's not hard to figure out that he still doesn’t want you to go. Occasionally you catch him sending worried glances your way, silently asking you to change your mind and tell him to turn around.

He’s no Dave, but he is a good friend. Not exactly best bro material, but it’s not as if you’ll just cut him out of your life for no reason. He’s not Dave, and he’ll never be Dave, you know that much. You think you’ve finally stopped trying to force him into a mold that he’s just not meant to fit.

When you meet Karkat again, the first thing you’re going to do is teach him that. You know he’s hurting, but you’re certain that you can help him not only get through this, but come out stronger.

You can’t completely heal all of his problems; you're not even sure if the scars he's gained will ever go away. Years of trauma can't go away with kinds word and support, but you can do your best to make the process of getting him back on his feet a little less painful. After all, you’re pretty sure you know what he’s going through better than anyone else.

Just a few more hours, you think. You’re almost there.

You hope Karkat's waiting for you.

*

“What the fuck are you two idiots doing!? Get back and let me handle this!”

Terezi’s lips split open, revealing what seem to be neverending rows of sharp teeth, covered in a thick layer of teal blood. She coughs and leans heavily onto her cane, using her free hand to try to cover the wound weeping blood in her side.

“Dragons and knights may be mortal enemies, Karkat, but there are exceptions. This dragon has already lost one knight, and she refuses to lose the only other one she has.” She limps over to you, gently lifting your chin up to look her straight in her dead eyes. You can see right past her cheap red sunglasses, and even though her retinas are burnt out, compassion for you still glows within them.

“Don’t go and do this! Goddammit Terezi, I can’t lose you too!” You scream, the words breaking down and dissolving into pathetic little squeaks halfway through.

Gamzee saunters over to you, long, lanky limbs moving as if through water, slow and graceful and the slightest bit unsettling. It’s so surreal, like watching some freaky animation from the bottom of the uncanny valley and not a real life troll. He’s covered in blood, blood of all different hues, but the indigo splattered all over him is the freshest. “Bro, you got a lot more to live for than I do. I’ve done a pretty motherfucking bad job here.” He circles behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. “It’s my job to do this, best friend. Bards are the first to go.”

Why do they have to bring out all of this title shit _now_ of all times? “No, you guys need to fucking quit it. If you’re going to pull this grubfucking backwards title bullshit on me, then I’ll fucking do it too. The knight is the one who sacrifices himself for the others! We were all there when Strider took those hits meant for us!”

You’re not entirely sure when you broke into tears, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not now.

“Karkat...” Terezi whispers, her voice quiet and strained, on the verge of breaking. She wipes away the tears already rolling down your cheeks, and leans closer until your foreheads are touching. “I’d do anything to make sure you live. I’ve Seen the outcome of this battle, and it’s best if _we_ go fight, not you.”

A thick, wheezing sob escapes you, wracking your body as you try to double over on yourself. Both Terezi and Gamzee keep you steady, and your moirail gently shooshpaps you until you’re no longer shaking.

“Don’t...don’t do this to me, y-you assholes.” You mutter.

“We’re only doing this to help you, motherfucker,” Gamzee whispers. “You’ve got so much to live for, bro. So much more than either of us.”

“We’ll distract and weaken him, all right? Then, you and John can come in and deliver the final blow,” Terezi explains.

She’s about to die.

She’s not supposed to be this fucking calm and serene about it!

“I can’t. Not without you two!”

“It’ll be okay. It’ll hurt bro, it’ll hurt for a long time, but you can move past it all. I know you can. I believe in you.”

Terezi hugs you tightly, her arms wrapping over Gamzee’s and enveloping you with warmth from all sides.

She pulls back, just enough to press a soft, gentle kiss to your lips, overflowing with cherry red feelings but leaving drops of teal blood in her wake. “I love you, Karkles.”

You feel Gamzee press his lips to the top of your head, leaving a wet spot there as well. You don’t know if it’s from tears, blood, or both. “You’re the best moirail a motherfucker could ask for. Love you.”

They both let go at the same time. You stand there, frozen and demanding your body to move as they walk away. You want to scream, tell them to come back this instant, but your voice leaves you.

They share one last look, identical grins on their faces, as they disappear out of your sight.

Even if your muscles started obeying you again, you wouldn’t dare to wash the blood off of you.

You hear footsteps, and a loud, painful buzz in your ears. Even then, you find yourself unable to move, only able to watch as Terezi and Gamzee fade in and out of view, bloodier and weaker every time you see them.

“Karkat?”

It isn’t a voice you easily recognize. It’s deep, deeper than any other voice you’ve heard before, but light, like the wind whispering against your ears.

“Karkat, are you there?”

You feel as if you’ve heard that voice somewhere before, but you can’t figure out where. If only you dug a little deeper, you could figure it out...

“Karkat, please be here!”

Just like that, it clicks. Your eyes fly open, and with a start, you realize that you were having _that_ dream again. You shake your head, trying to get rid of the numbness in your body. Once you feel you can properly get up without slamming yourself into a wall, you stumble out of your room and to the door. You fumble with the handle, and with a growl, unlock it and throw open the door.

It’s John. A different looking John, but John nonetheless. He’s taller; so much taller, taller than you. He’s still skinny, and you can see the faintest traces of hair around his chin.

He’s fucking beautiful.

“Oh my god, Karkat.” He whispers, wide-eyed from behind his glasses. His voice, his breath, is a fresh wind blowing through your entire body.

So many emotions – happiness, relief, joy, hope, maybe even love – swirl through your mind all at once, a conglomerate of wonderful feelings. They wash away the nightmare you just woke from, and for a few moments, the constant sting of your memories aren’t as harsh.

“I’ve missed you, you asshole.” You say, a smile tugging at your lips.

He grins back at you, and quickly pulls you into a tight embrace. “God, Karkat, I...I’ve missed you too.”

You snake your arms around his middle, pulling him so close to you that frankly you’re not sure where he begins and you end. “Don’t ever fucking leave again,” you tell him. “Ever.”

He laughs, clear and bright and loud and so full of emotion, resounding throughout his body and melting into yours. Warmth spreads, from your fingertips to your toes.

Whatever this is, it’s more than matespritship, you think. This is more than moiralligeance, more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” He murmurs.

“Are...” You falter, swallowing before continuing on hesitantly. “Are you feeling _this_ too, or is it just me being overemotional?”

He pulls back slightly, and it takes all of your willpower not to glue yourself to his chest again. “No, trust me, I feel it too. I’ve felt it for a long time.” He leans down, and gently presses his lips against yours. You lean into the kiss, letting the fireworks, feelings so sharp and clear and simply wonderful that you can only label them as _love_ explode behind your eyelids. Your arms move up to his neck, and you end up leaning so far into him you almost make him topple over.

In the end, you do topple him over, and you’re both sitting on your doorstep, laughing in relief and pure, unbridled joy.

“Karkat, how would you like to come see my house? Something tells me you don’t like it much here,” he says, pointing to the inside of the dusty, eviscerated reamins of what once passed for a suitable living environment. You weren’t really living in it, you figure. Just Existing.

“Thank you for your observational skills, John. I never would have discovered that myself,” you tell him, rolling your eyes but unable to keep the smile off of your mouth.

For the first time in years, you feel like all of the weight and pain has been lifted off of you. Like you’ve woken up from the longest nightmare you’ve ever had.

You’ve finally found something – no, _someone_ , to live for.


End file.
